


Last Words

by whimsicottly



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, dont worry, he always comes back!, ignis dies in this a lot but, once again, super self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 05:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10938150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicottly/pseuds/whimsicottly
Summary: Prompto notices something peculiar about Ignis, and decides to do something about it.





	Last Words

**Author's Note:**

> there's so many fics with like, Ignis being the one helping and giving advice and fixing everyone's bad habits, but barely any fics about him making his own share of mistakes. 
> 
> this is a companion piece to my other fic, [ First Words. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10192211) it's also promnis. i luv them

Prompto is the first to notice.

 

Well, maybe not. Maybe he's the last to notice, but nobody else has said anything out of respect. Or maybe they haven’t said anything because they don’t think it’s important? It is important though, Prompto thinks, but it’s such a small thing that it’s ridiculous to even notice it in the first place, and even more ridiculous to get bothered by it.

 

Either way, Prompto’s noticed it, and now that he’s noticed it, he can’t stop thinking about it. He’s got to do something.

 

But… what is there to even _do_ about the last words someone says before falling in battle? It’s not exactly “easy” or “socially acceptable” to just walk up to someone and be like, ‘Hey, I noticed that every time you die, it’s almost always because you’re trying to protect someone, and that you calling out to them is the last thing you say before you’re down, which seems fine ‘cos y’know, it’s kind of your duty and stuff, but it’s actually pretty disturbing when you think about how willing you are to die.’

 

Definitely not easy, and _especially_ not socially acceptable.

 

Prompto sighs, unsure of what to do about this. He’s leaned over Ignis’ (dead) body after a fight that went on for way too long against a Red Giant. Way too long meaning, way, way, way too long, like, the fight started at night, but by the time it had finished, dawn had broken. It’s not all bad, though, because they don’t have to worry about another daemon showing up as they tend to their wounds. Plus, the sunrise is pretty. Prompto would’ve taken a photo, had it been appropriate. But it wasn’t.

 

Instead, he summons a Phoenix Down and takes one of Ignis’ hands into both of his own.

 

He sighs once more as he curls Ignis’ fingers around the restorative. “Iggy, you gotta be more careful.” Prompto says, deciding he dislikes the silence. He knows Ignis can’t hear him, and that fact gives him a certain freedom when he speaks.

 

“You really took a hit there, man. You know you didn’t have to, right? Noct could’ve just… warped away.” He recalls how Ignis had died; taking a hit for Noctis, and a real hard one at that. That blow, on top of all of the other blows that he had already taken, was enough to knock him down for good. Or, well, at least until he got a magic feather into his system.

 

“But I guess it’s good to be sure that he’s safe anyway. It’s your job. It’s all of our jobs!” Prompto watches as the magic flame engulfs his companion. “But it wouldn’t kill ‘ya though to have a sense of self-preservation. Literally would not kill you.”

 

“In fact, having a bit of that little ingredient in the grand recipe that is Ignis Scientia would probably make the dish even better, since you’d be, y’know, alive.” He attempts to translate his thoughts into a language that Ignis would be able to understand better. “Not that the metaphorical dish of your personality tastes bad! It’s just that it’d be even better with it than without.” He pauses for a moment. “Like spices!”

 

The metaphor isn’t half bad, he thinks to himself. Maybe he could even actually tell Ignis when he’s conscious.

 

Nah. Too embarrassing.

 

Looking down, Prompto sees that the fire had long since dissipated around Ignis, yet he remains still. Prompto takes note of this and raises an eyebrow in question. “Phoenix Downs take a lot longer to work than I remember.” He isn’t worried, though, because if Ignis isn’t alive yet, then that means he hadn’t heard that ramble that went on for too long. Good.

 

Right after saying that, though, Ignis takes a deep, audible breath, like he was just waiting for his cue to resurrect. Prompto watches the rise of his chest and takes comfort in it, but wonders when he’s going to have to see it devoid of movement again.

 

“Prompto,” Ignis starts, sitting up from where he had been lying on the ground. “Thank you.”

 

“Yeah, don’t sweat it!” Prompto replies. He’s just about to bring one of his hands behind his neck to gesture sheepishness in a classic bishounen manner, when he realizes that he’s still holding Ignis’ hand. He doesn’t dare move, for some reason, to play it cool, or to not make it awkward.

 

There’s a beat of silence between the two that drags on for even longer than the fight they were just in. Prompto’s looking anywhere but where their hands are still joined together, and Ignis looks down towards just that.

 

“If I may.” Ignis says, referring to his trapped hand.

 

“Sure, man.” Prompto says, trying not to let it show how embarrassed he was by the accidental prolonged hand holding. He lets go.

 

With all his appendages free, Ignis begins to stand up and walk towards the other two members of the team, who have begun the walk towards the nearest haven. Prompto follows suit, staying behind the group as to not give away how red he must have gotten.

 

* * *

 

 

As he’s lying in the tent, all settled, and ready to sleep, his thoughts on the matter keep him awake. And it _sucks_ because Prompto is _tired,_ he is so tired– they are _all_ so tired. But his stupid brain keeps telling him about how there’s something wrong with Ignis’ last words.

 

They’re always about someone else, Prompto concludes. And that’s fine, he guesses, but it happens way too much. Where others would cry for help, or at least yell (Prompto, personally, frequented the phrase ‘Ah, shit,’ before falling to his doom), Ignis would be all “Highness” this, or “Noct” that.

 

The worst part is that he probably doesn’t even realize that he’s doing it. He’s so caught up in the moment of trying to rescue someone else that he doesn’t take into account the fact that he might be throwing his own life away. It’s selflessness, sure, but it’s also self-destruction. The thing with giving away all that you have is that by the end of it, you have nothing left for yourself.

 

Of course, that’s not entirely true, since there’s always Phoenix Downs. Prompto figures that’s why it hasn’t bothered anybody but himself. But it’s too important– nobody can just keep living like that. Literally! Ignis has _died_ because of this attitude.

 

The fact that it might be instinctual doesn’t help, either. It says a lot about what Ignis may subconsciously think of himself, actually– Probably something along the lines of ‘moderately important but ready to die for the greater good whenever.’ That is never a good mindset to have, especially considering how much more important he is than just “moderately important.”

 

Plus, if this constant dying becomes a habit, (which in Prompto’s opinion, it already has), then that leads to relying on Phoenix Downs. That just doesn’t sound healthy at all. What if Ignis dies when they’re fresh out of stock, or what if he suddenly develops and allergy to them? Is there such thing as Phoenix Down overuse, and if so, what are the negative side effects? Prompto doesn’t want to find out.

 

 _He has to do something about it_ , he decides. _And soon._

 

* * *

 

 

As it turns out, doing something about it is hard and scary because confrontation is hard and scary, so Prompto just tries to keep a better watch in battle. He tries to rescue Noctis (and on occasion, Gladiolus) when he can, so that Ignis doesn’t have to.

 

Of course, sometimes, that leads to Prompto himself getting in danger too. He hadn’t considered that. Probably a bad move on his part.

 

 A team mate getting in danger, of course, is clear bait for Ignis to help (read: sacrifice himself). Well, one thing lead to another and… Whatever. No one needs the play-by-play anyway. What’s important is that recklessness and the lack of forward thinking (on both their parts, Prompto supposes) is what landed death on Ignis’ shoulders _again._

 

Prompto kneels down on the rocky asphalt-like ground of the cave next to his fallen team mate and summons a Phoenix Down. At this point, the set-up is starting to become muscle memory. He takes Ignis’ hands into his own and activates the magic, this time remembering to let go of his hands afterwards.

 

“Didn’t I tell you to be more careful, man?” Prompto says, voice low. It’s not like anyone would hear him anyway, even if he did raise his voice. He’s sitting there, hugging his knees, over his friends’ body, just watching as the flames lick him back to life. Talking to himself. He must be the absolute picture of pathetic. He sighs, exasperated.

 

“I know, you weren’t really, uh, alive to hear it last time, but…” He trails off, looking to the side, unsure of how to continue. He doesn’t notice that the flames had died down. “But you should know. You’re too important for us to lose. You need to take care, because we can’t do this without you.” He says, not really thinking.  

 

It really, really sucks. Does Ignis think his job is to just die? Like, does he think that’s what all his training has been for? Of course not, he’s not stupid. Then… why does he keep doing it?

 

Prompto breaks out of his thoughts and looks down just in time to see Ignis beginning to stir. He grunts as he sits up, and Prompto scoots over to give him some space.

 

“You alright? You got hit pretty bad back there.” He asks, waving his thoughts away. Ignis looks up at him with an emotion Prompto can’t quite read. He hopes it isn’t like, detest, or remorse, or anything. “Thanks for saving me, by the way.” He adds, just in case.

 

“Of course. Thank you, as well.” Ignis says in reply, expression normalizing. Prompto reads it as gratitude. Neutral-gratitude. Like the kind of gratitude that says ‘thank you for doing what anyone else would do.’

 

“No prob,” Prompto says, getting up. He decides to push the thoughts away once more, and think about them later. He swears he’ll figure out something to do. “C’mon, we better get moving. Don’t wanna run into more of those things.”

 

Ignis gets up too, dusting off his pants. “Agreed.” He says, making his way towards the rest of the team.

 

Prompto, once again, walks just a few paces behind everyone. He’s gonna talk to Ignis about it next time, he promises to himself.

 

* * *

 

 

Next time comes way too quickly.

 

It’s against a bunch of those ice bomb-looking daemons. They’re not ice bombs, though. At first glance, they seem like ice bombs, and you’d think, “Oh, okay, ice bombs, this’ll be quick” but then they start growing, and growing, and exploding, and… Look, the point is, they’re not ice bombs. Prompto can’t remember the proper name for the life of him, but after all the shit they’ve put him through, they no longer deserve one.

 

…Capsizers? Cryogonals? Crying grenades? Whatever.

 

Ignis went out real heroically this time. It actually _looked_ badass. The not-ice bomb daemons were coming up to the team, growing every second, seemingly about ready to burst whenever. The team was pretty much cornered by them. Ignis had looked at Gladiolus and Prompto with that “keep Noct safe” look, then bolted right towards the not-ice bombs, then past them, to the other side of the room. The daemons followed him there, then exploded pretty much right when they reached him.

 

It sucked. Noctis and Gladiolus took care of the ice bombs that the not-ice bombs spawned while Prompto made sure Ignis was in one piece.

 

He hears the fight wrapping up behind him. Good.

 

Taking Ignis’ hands in his once more, he wraps them around the Phoenix Down, and activates its power. He lets go as the fire starts around his fallen team mate, and sits back, waiting for him to return.

 

It’s so jarring. To see Ignis– mature, composed, _non-impulsive_ Ignis, like this. All broken and breathless and dead. He’s always been the one there to ground the group, to keep them all together, and push them in the right direction. Without him, they’d all be bumbling around Eos with no clue as to what their next move would be. That’s what Prompto thinks, anyway.

 

Even before the trip, too, Ignis had been looking out for all of them. Prompto can’t speak for Gladio and Noct, of course, but… He knows that Ignis sometimes went out of his way to help him. All the sparring sessions, home-cooked meals, and friendly counsel– Prompto couldn’t be more grateful for him. He’s grown so much as a person thanks to Ignis.

 

“Man, how many more times are you gonna die?” Prompto finds himself muttering towards Ignis’ still body. “You can’t keep doing this, Ignis. It’s not right.” He says, voice barely above a whisper, but still loud enough for Ignis to hear, were he alive. Good thing he isn’t yet.

 

Prompto thinks back to all the memories they have together. What kind of world would it be if Ignis wasn’t in it? Not a world he’d want to live in, to be sure.

 

Prompto shifts, opting for a more comfortable position to sit in while waiting. Phoenix Downs seem to take longer every time, but whatever. As long as they work. Behind him, he hears Noct and Gladio looking for the ice-resistant charms in anticipation for more icy daemons.

 

He looks down toward Ignis. He’s as unmoving as ever, but should be coming back any moment now. “You have to save yourself sometimes.” Prompto sighs, watching the slight rise and fall of Ignis’ chest. “They need you. We need you. I…” He trails off.

 

Wait.

 

Rise and fall of Ignis’ chest?

 

“Ignis?” Prompto asks, slowly. “Are you…” He checks again, just to make sure he saw right. And there it is. Ignis is definitely breathing. He’s alive! But why hasn’t he said anything?

 

“You’re alive! What,” Prompto starts once more, confusion overriding his ability to form coherent sentences.

 

Ignis opens his eyes slowly, revealing that he is very much alive. He sits up, also slowly, like he’s been caught in some notorious criminal act and wants time to move slower in order to delay the consequences.

 

Prompto looks at him. Ignis doesn’t look back, opting instead to look off to the side.

 

 “How long have you been awake,” Prompto asks, though it isn’t a question. He feels he already knows the answer. He pushed down the urge to scream.

 

“Long enough.” Ignis replies, still slowly. “And this isn’t the first time, either.” He adds, escalating Prompto’s already plenty escalated embarrassment.

 

 Inwardly, Prompto slowly, yet surely, dies. He recalls everything that he’s said to the (apparently not) dead body of Ignis, and prays to the Six that one of them have mercy on him and strike him down now. It would be a better fate.

 

Outwardly, he draws a deep breath. Maybe it isn’t that bad? Maybe he can make it a good thing that Ignis heard all his embarrassingly feelsy rambles.

 

He exhales.

 

“So I don’t have to say it again, then,” Prompto starts. “I don’t have to tell you to stop throwing your life away. Cause you know by now, right? You heard.”

 

Ignis decides to make eye contact at that. Prompto notes that he looks– he looks uncertain. He looks unsure. But when he nods, he does it with conviction. “I do.”

 

He says it like he doesn’t believe it, Prompto thinks, but he’s trying to. It’s not something he’s used to seeing on Ignis– uncertainty. But it’s a step in the right direction.

 

“Alright,” Prompto says, getting up. “Good.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next time it happens, it doesn’t.

 

The group’s facing off against a daemon. Of course it’s a daemon, it’s always a daemon. This time, it’s a ronin. And this time, it’s the closest call of them all.

 

Noctis is unleashing a barrage of warp-strikes at the ronin, while Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis take out the imps that surround the area. Noct must’ve miscalculated how many warp-strikes it would take to bring the ronin down or something, because he’s in stasis before the ronin’s even in critical condition.

 

Prompto hears it before he sees it. Ignis yelling— “Noct!” Prompto finishes up an imp before turning towards the source of the call, and sees Ignis, dutifully sprinting over to aid Noctis.

 

Here it comes, Prompto thinks, he can already see it in his mind, exactly how this is going to go. The moment Ignis reaches Noctis, the ronin is going to bring its sword down to strike, and Ignis is gonna take the blow instead of Noct. He’s gonna get impaled and die again, and it’s gonna be terrible.

 

Prompto watches, only half-focused on the rest of the battle in front of him. Ignis reaches Noct, and…

 

Prompto’s prediction is only half right. The moment Ignis gets there, it does swing its sword, but, instead of Ignis dying, he parries single-handedly. He’s handing Noctis an ether with his other hand. He makes it look effortless, and if Prompto’s being honest, super attractive. He snaps a photo.

 

 _Color me pleasantly surprised_ , he thinks to himself. Not impressed, of course. He always knew Ignis could do it.

 

After the battle, he walks in stride with Ignis, who is adjusting his glasses as if that life-saving badass maneuver was nothing more than bending down to pick up a fallen pen.

 

“Nice moves back there!” Prompto tells him, bumping Ignis’ shoulder with his own. He hopes to communicate the sentiment, ‘good job, keep it up, and I’m proud of you’ with the gesture. Hopefully the more perceptive of the two understands.

 

“Of course,” Ignis replies, with only a little bit of smugness. “And Prompto?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading ╰(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)╯


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